Midnight Train
by Air Guitar Pixie
Summary: "No matter what choices you make, whatever details you alter, we will always end up here..." Season 9 AU. Forcing the angels out of Heaven dragged up those down below, too. And it still isn't Ezekiel who's possessing Sam. T for blood (in later chapters) and language.
1. Prologue slash Chapter 1

A/N: _Hi! So, this idea sort of pounced on me a while back, and I'm finally getting around to typing it. For anyone concerned- YES, it has a full plot, all outlined out, and YES, it has a (relatively) happy ending! Of course, before that, there will be lots of angst...:) So here's the synopsis: When the angels fell, it didn't just release the ones out of heaven, it yanked out Michael and Lucifer as well. I just couldn't help myself...enjoy!  
-Jaq_

* * *

_No matter what you do, whatever details you alter...you'll always end up here._

* * *

Dean paced anxiously around the outside of the hospital. If Cas couldn't help him, maybe someone else would. At this point, he didn't care, not really. Sammy was _dying, _and there had to be something someone could do. He hoped.

He breathed out a short breath through his nose, composing himself. "Alright, you bastards," he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut and standing rigidly. "Now would be a great time. I- I'll do anything. Please. Just help me."

Opening his eyes, he wasn't surprised to see nobody there. He was friggin' Dean Winchester, of course nobody would come to help.

It didn't mean it didn't hurt, though.

Angrily, he strode back inside, straight to Sam's room. His brother hadn't improved. Sam was still unconscious, barely breathing, just...lying there. So _still_.

Dean pulled over a plastic chair and sat down, running his hands through his hair. "C'mon, Sammy..." he whispered, leaning over his brother. They would get through this. They had to.

Several minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Dean opened it, expecting a doctor. The man who greeted him, however, was about as far as one could get. He was dirty, bloodstained, and looked very tired. "Dean Winchester?"

"Who wants to know?" Dean asked, reaching behind to grab his gun with the hand the man couldn't see.

"I am Ezekiel, angel of the Lord. I heard your prayer-"

"So can you heal Sam?" Dean snapped, beating down the hope that had arisen. Hope wouldn't do any good, not if it all failed.

"I can try. First, however, I would need to possess him. I myself am not at full strength," the man answered, giving Dean a serious look.

"Like hell," Dean growled. No way he was going through that again.

"It is the only way to save your brother. He wouldn't even know. When I am finished, I will leave, of course."

Dean hated it, but it was the only plan he had. And it was clear that Sam's condition was rapidly worsening. "Outside," he said threateningly, "now."

Following the angel outside, Dean led him into his pre-prepared circle of holy oil and set it ablaze. Ezekiel gave Dean a confused look and immediately crouched to the ground. "What is going on?"

"Just making sure you aren't going anywhere. Hold on." Walking a short distance away, he took out his cellphone and dialed speed dial three. It picked up on the third ring, and with a breath of relief, Dean asked quickly, "Cas?"

"Hello, Dean," Castiel answered in his gravelly voice.

"Ezekiel. Is he a good guy?" Dean demanded, getting straight to the point.

"Why? Dean, you haven't done anything-"

"Of course not. But I was thinking, maybe we could use some help. And I've got a guy trapped in holy fire who claims he's Ezekiel."

There was a pause. "Ezekiel is, by your definition, a 'good guy.' He didn't take sides in the fighting. He's very passive, and would never intentionally hurt something unless he was forced to."

"Great. Thanks, Cas. You doing okay?"

"I'll be fine."

Dean hung up and walked over to where the man in the circle of fire was sitting. "Alright, Zeke- can I call you Zeke?"

"That is not," the angel began, but Dean cut him off.

"Great. Alright, Zeke, how are we going to pull this off?"

"I...would suggest letting me out, first," Ezekiel said.

Warily, Dean did so, dragging over a hose from the nearby flower garden. As soon as he was free, Ezekiel strode purposefully toward the hospital. Dean followed, and within a minute they were back in Sam's room.

"He cannot give consent in this state," Ezekiel noted. "And he is not going to wake before he dies."

"So what are you suggesting?" Dean asked, trying valiantly not to get impatient.

"There is a possibility...we can enter his head. I will require your help."

Dean agreed, and Ezekiel zapped-for lack of a more technical term- them inside Sam's head.

And Sammy was with Death, and it was all horrible, and Dean honestly didn't even think, just did it. And then Sam was saying yes, and Ezekiel slipped through.

And then Sam woke up.

"Sam?" Dean asked, darting to his brother's side. "Sam," he said urgently, "are you okay?"

"Yeah, Dean," Sam said, sounding...disappointed. "I'm fine."

"Good. Listen, we've got to get you out of here..."

Sam hustled out of the hospital, quiet and unassuming. Minutes later, they were in the Impala.

For the first few minutes, both brothers were silent, watching the cars go by on the road. The day was beautiful out.

"You sure you're okay, Sammy?" Dean asked, turning for a second to face his brother. Sam had been with _Death_...

"Yes, Dean, I'm alright," Sam said with a sigh. "I just...it never ends, does it?"

"What never ends?"

"This. The life, the constant sacrifices, the crap motels, everything. It never stops. I'm going to keep on hunting until I die, and it'll probably be a bloody death. You know?"

And Dean did know, better than anyone. "Yeah, I know," he said, and pressed the pedal down a little harder. He didn't attempt to make any more conversation, just turned the music up. He hoped Sam didn't notice the glances he gave him, or the way Dean's shoulders had slumped fractionally. Sam didn't want to live. But Dean couldn't just let him die, could he? Dean couldn't be alone, because despite his stupid facade, his reckless demeanor, Dean was broken as _hell_ and if Sam wasn't there Dean didn't know what he'd do.

-:-

Inside Sam Winchester's body, Lucifer smiled to himself. It had taken a long time. But it was worth it.

* * *

A/N: _Next chapter should be up sometime this week. If you like this idea, please leave a review? They're just...so awesome...! Thanks for giving this a shot. Have a great day!_

_-Jaq_

_Song of the day: um...Rock And Roll by Velvet Underground, because I can see that song as the montage of this fic is going on. Plus, it's awesome. After you follow, favorite, and review, I recommend listening to it! _


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: _Hi! Thank you so much for reading, reviewing, following, and favoriting! I apologize for the choppiness of these first couple chapters- they're just exposition, and you already know what happens for the most part, so I don't want this to be boring. Thanks so much to VattaKeto, sammysmissingshoe, Sharllissa, Yukilyn, Charlie. N. Perfuro, Jenna, and in-silent-seas for reviewing! You guys make my day; I'm thrilled that so many people are excited for this! This is the first *official* chapter, as the last was just a prologue, and this is the one where the plot picks up. Enjoy!_

_-Jaq_

* * *

After nearly two day's worth of driving, they finally reached Lebanon. Ezekiel hadn't shown, and Dean was pretty sure that Sam was making all his own decisions, so it was all good. Well, as good as it could get when you're driving nonstop across the country with a little brother who's pissed (and probably at you), possessed (even if he didn't know it), and not even talking.

So yeah, it would be good to be a little more than two feet away from each other.

Dean threw open the door to the bunker, grunting and walking in. "Kevin?" he called, looking around. Normally, the prophet would be hanging around the entryway, waiting to make sure the entrant wasn't a demon. Still. Maybe the kid was sleeping. It'd be good.

A crossbow bolt suddenly sprouted from the wall next to Dean's head, and he whipped out his gun, ducking instinctively and looking around. Sam, behind him, did the same.

"Dean? Sam?"

"Ke-_DAMMIT_, Kevin!" Dean shouted, throwing down his gun and glaring at the head that popped out from the landing. "I try to walk into my friggin' _house_ and you go and..." he gestured to the crossbow in the young man's hands. _  
_

"Sorry," Kevin said flatly. "You guys just...disappeared off the radar, wouldn't answer my phone calls or anything, and meanwhile the whole bunker's gone on lockdown. I mean, what the hell? I'm just supposed to assume that anybody walking in here is one of the two people who _don't_ want me dead?"

"Those also happen to be the people that know how to get in here," Dean muttered. Sending one more glance Kevin's way, he shook his head. "Next time? Use a gun. Crossbow ain't gonna stop many things. Katniss."

Kevin gave a half-smile and nodded, disappearing back into his room. Dean turned to his brother, who hadn't spoken at all. "Well, Sammy? We're home at last."

-:-

"Who's Abbadon?" Kevin asked out of the blue, walking into the kitchen.

Dean stopped searching through the fridge and gave the prophet a sharp look. "Who wants to know?"

Kevin rolled his eyes. "Me, dumbass. Just got a phonecall with coordinates from somebody named Abbadon. Apparently, you guys've got something she wants." As if in proof, he held up the phone he was carrying.

Dean scowled. "She's a dead bitch," he said.

"Clearly, she isn't dead. What is she? Demon?"

"Yeah. Knight of Hell, actually. Eviller than normal."

Kevin nodded. "So how do we kill her?"

Dean gave him a long look, not answering. Walking out of the kitchen, he rapped on Sam's door. "Sammy? You in there?"

A few seconds later, Sam opened the door. "What's up?" he asked, lifting his eyebrows and looking at Dean and Kevin.

"Abbadon."

Sam frowned, looking confused. "But- she's burt, as good as dead..."

"Not according to Kevin," Dean said grimly. Looking at the prophet, he gestured to Sam. "Kev?"

"Yeah, apparently this 'Abbadon' wants something of yours. She gave me a set of coordinates." Kevin looked up at Sam.

"What are they?"

Kevin rattled off the coordinates as Sam typed them into his phone. With a frown, he looked up. "It's a city. Contaminated, radioactive, abandoned. It's a trap."

"You think?" Dean asked sarcastically. "Well, it's where Abaddon is. Best I figure, we walk in, guns blazing. Kevin, you're on figuring out how to kill a Knight of Hell. Sam, call backup."

"And you?" Sam asked, giving his brother a concerned look.

Dean gave him a knowing look. "I need my pre-game drink," he said darkly walking off into the kitchen.

-:-

"So maybe this wasn't the smartest idea," Dean grunted, stabbing a possessed sailor in the gut with the demon blade. The man gave a surprised gasp, lighting up orange and falling to the ground. Dean turned to Sam, but his brother was too preoccupied with another sailor. Just when Dean was about to jump in, his brother stabbed the possessed man with an angel blade, however, and turned to face Dean.

"You think so? Are you even sure an angel blade will kill her? The the demon-killing knife didn't, after all," Sam said, breathing heavily.

"Well, aren't you just Captain Optimist," Dean snarked, looking around for signs of another demon. "As I recall, Kevin said that 'nothing he knew of other than Death, God, and maybe Michael and Lucifer could withstand an angel blade.' So I'd say it's our best shot. I've got devil's traps carved into the bullets, right? This might be our only chance to gank her."

Sam frowned, but didn't retort. After receiving the coordinates, they'd been rather hasty to go find them. So far, Abbadon hadn't showed. Dean knew that, of course, but sometimes Sam's brother could be a little...obstinate.

"Alright, let's check that house. We haven't checked it yet," Dean said, annoyed. Walking ahead of Sam, he strode in the direction of a house a few streets over. Of the houses in the dilapidated town, it was one of the best preserved.

"You check that one, I'll go over here," Sam replied, turning to the left slightly. Holding his blade with a firm, relaxed grip, he walked away from his brother.

"Dammit," Dean cursed under his breath, glancing at Sam. He didn't want to split up, but he knew they'd get the job done faster that way. If Abbadon even was here, they'd have a better opportunity of finding her separated. Preserve the element of surprise (if it hadn't already been ruined) and all that.

So he walked towards his house, deciding that if nothing was inside it he would go back to Sam.

-:-

Sam glanced once at Dean's retreating figure before continuing to walk quickly toward his house of choice. Holding his blade in front of him, he pushed open the door and stepped quickly inside.

He was greeted by several demons, their surprise evident but not long lasting.

And then Lucifer emerged, so seamlessly that Sam didn't even notice.

The demons did, however, and with a gasp, one of them started backwards. "Mi...Milord?"

"Is Abbadon here?"

"Y...yes, Milord. Sir. Yes, she's in the house over there..." the demon pointed out the window, glancing at Lucifer.

"Good."

"Milord, if...if you don't mind...what I mean is, how are you here? It's fantastic, of course, I'm thrilled, but I thought-"

The demon didn't get any further before he was dead. Lucifer strode out of the house, walking toward Abbadon.

-:-

Sam almost tripped, feeling a weird sense of deja vu. He remembered entering the house, and then...there wasn't anything, and he walked back out. Huh. Weird. Whatever. He continued walking over to the house Dean had chosen, and, in a minute, he was there.

And so was Abbadon. The struggle had brought the two of them just outside the house, and Dean was clearly losing. Breaking into a run, Sam gave a shout. Abbadon grabbed Dean's arm, twisting it backwards, and Sam could see the pained expression from where he was.

"Dean!"

Abbadon let Dean drop, cradling his broken arm. Turning, she smiled. "Sam!" she said, delightedly. "How nice of you to join!"

Sam skidded to a stop, holding the angel blade out in front of him. "What do you want?"

Abbadon gave a small start, and Sam thought he might have imagined it. Smiling, she gave Dean a kick relishing the sound her stilettos made against his skull. "Dean's out of it," she said, not answering Sam's question but instead looking at him curiously.

Sam lunged, and, to his surprise, Abbadon just stood there, smiling an odd smile.

Sam Winchester stopped lunging, and Lucifer took his place. Upon seeing Abbadon, he smiled. "It's been a while."

"So you got out then?" Abbadon asked, her tone amazed. "I'd wondered if...I mean, I heard the rumors, and I figured they were true."

"They were. When the angels fell, Michael and myself were released as well."

Abbadon shook her head, smiling. "Just like the good old days, then," she said, smirking.

"Just the same."

There was a pause in which perhaps the two most evil beings in the world at that time stood looking at one another. Then, Lucifer nodded to the body of a sailor. "Possess him, for the time being. Sammy here has to think that he's won. I'll alter his memory to make him think he stabbed you, but it would help if there was a stab wound and no demon."

Abbadon did as asked, smoking into the body and standing up. Before she disappeared, she smiled.

-:-

Sam stared numbly at the body on the ground and glanced at his blade, coated in blood. Abbadon's eyes had shone, and then she'd fizzled to the ground. _Dead_.

Win one for the Winchesters.

Moving over to Dean, Sam carefully shook his brother. Dean's eyelids fluttered for a second, and then snapped open. "Sam," he groaned, closing his eyes again and wincing.

Sam couldn't help a grin from sliding over his features, and he suddenly felt the exhaustion of a fight sink in, the adrenaline wearing off. "Abbadon's dead," he said, almost offhandedly.

Dean stopped wincing, his brow furrowing. "_Dead_? Are you sure?"

A noticeable change ran through Sam, and the angel inside of him emerged. "Yes, Dean. I am sure."

"Zeke?"

Lucifer nodded.

Dean smiled, relief washing over him. "Awesome," he breathed. "This is friggin' _awesome_."

"I know! Let's go back to the bunker, Kevin will be glad to know his research paid off for once," Sam said, unfazed, as if he had never not been in control.

Dean blinked at the sudden change, but thought nothing of it. "Yeah, okay," he said.

As they were walking back to the car, Dean shook his head, letting out a breathy laugh. "I guess we deserve one win, eh, Sammy?"

Sam smiled, saying nothing. He agreed.

* * *

A/N: _Reviews are love, and they make my day...I love hearing your thoughts! So do that, please! :)_

_Thanks for giving this story a go. Have a nice day! Next chapter should be up this weekend._

_-Jaq_


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: _Well, welcome to the third installment! I want to thank everyone who's followed and favorited- you guys are awesome! To sammysmissingshoe, Yukilyn, Sharllissa, VattaKeto, Jenna, in-silent-seas, Charlie N. Perfuro, BonanzaRocks, and Kas3y, thanks for reviewing! I'm excited about this story, it's going to be another long one (though maybe not as long as 'Batman,' we'll see). Also, thank you so much to OhMerlin's Beard for putting this story in their community Supernatural AUs! _

_A short notice to whom it may concern: I know the car I have for Cas in this story isn't the one they have in the show. But seriously, what are the chances of him finding a car like that that's in good shape and not getting caught? I mean, he's smart enough to not hotwire a car that would be missed, and he drives it around enough to be seen by a camera that could notice a missing car. So I gave him a car that seemed more likely. (For the record, I hate his car, but I wanted this to seem legit) Anyway...on the subject of AU...this is going AU, even when it's not necessary...I just don't want to repeat exactly how the season has it, because that's boring. Have no fear, though, because after this chapter there will be _very little_ that isn't AU. Huzzah! __ And, after the longest author's note ever, here's the part you've all been waiting for...another long chapter...yay..._

_-Jaq_

_(also, I had to resend this an hour after I originally posted because I found and corrected a typo. I hope it didn't send two alert emails or anything stupid.)_

* * *

Wearily, Castiel trudged back to the beat-up 1984 Toyota Camry. He really, truly, _hated_ being a human. Too many emotions to deal with, not to mention the whole using-the-bathroom problem. Cas didn't really want to think about that. Sliding back into the car, however, he did feel a sense of accomplishment. Dean would be proud. Cas had successfully hotwired a car.

Actually, Dean would probably think that the car was ugly, but Cas didn't really care. It was _his_. And although it was confining and _slow_, it was so much better than walking. Before he gunned the engine, he glanced down. His phone had a message. Closing the door, he sat back and turned it on._  
_

It was Dean. _Hey, Cas, listen. So, uh- I'm sorry. About what I said earlier, the whole you're useless thing. Really, I am. _A pause. _Sam's...better, now. Come to the bunker, okay? Yeah. See ya. _Beep, signaling the end of the message.

Cas frowned, because Sam had been very far from _better_ the last time Dean had spoken to him. _He's-dying-and-I-need-some-damn-help_ far.

Still, he was only about five hours from Lebanon, and since he had just fueled up, he could probably make it there without any more stops. Turning the key in the ignition, he looked out at the road. There were times when he could have been with the Winchesters in the space of a thought, but that was a long time ago. But it didn't matter.

Driving down the road, Castiel was struck by the silence. So much chaos going on, and it was _quiet_. He didn't turn off the radio. He liked it.

After about an hour, he saw a speck in the distance. Castiel's vision was no longer enhanced by Heaven's power, but he could still tell from a long while back that it was a girl, and that she was limping. Slowing the car down, he pulled up beside her.

She was fair, with dark hair and a yellow sweater. Castiel rolled down the passenger window, looking out with a concerned glance. "Are you okay?"

The girl looked up and took a sharp breath. "Castiel?"

Cas narrowed his eyes, trying to discern her identity. After a few seconds, it came to him. "Hael?"

She nodded, her face stricken. "Castiel, what has happened? It's...it's horrible."

Cas sighed, leaning over and opening the door. "I know. Do you want a ride?" He could tell Dean that they were making a pit-stop, he would understand.

Hael gave him an unsure glance before slipping inside, not bothering to buckle the seatbelt. "Where?"

Castiel forced a smile. "Anywhere you like."

Hael was lost in thought for a few seconds. "A canyon. I made a grand canyon, the last time I came here. Can we go there?"

Right. The Grand Canyon. Castiel knew where that was, and it wasn't that far away, just a little over four hours. Sure, it would put him off course to the bunker, but it was worth it. "Okay. Let's go to the Grand Canyon."

A few minutes later, his phone began ringing. Glancing over at Hael, Cas picked it up. "Hello?"

"Cas, it's Dean." Dean sounded...happy. For once. "Cas, _we did it_. Abbadon's dead. Just thought I'd let you know."

"That's...amazing," Cas said, stunned. "How?"

"Well, I didn't actually do it, but Sammy did. Not bad, eh? Anyway, I gotta go. Just calling to check in. You're okay, right?"

"I'm fine."

"Awesome. Bye."

Cas hung up, placing the phone back in his pocket. Straightening, he was met with a fist. In his weakened state, it only took that for Cas to be out cold.

Hael looked at the damage she had done, smiling grimly. With ease, she pulled Castiel over to her side and climbed into the driver's seat. She may not have known how to drive, but it couldn't be _that_ hard. Pushing down on the gas pedal, she straightened the car and sped off.

-:-

Cas blinked, confused at first. He had been-what, _hit_? Glancing over, he saw Hael in the driver's seat. "Hael," he began, a tone of caution in his voice, "what are you doing?"

"I'm driving. Well, I'm _dying_, courtesy of you, but I'm also trying to drive this machine."

Cas frowned. "Dying?"

"Yes, Castiel," she snapped. "_Dying_. You might not have thought of it when you caused the angels to fall, but not all of us managed to do it gracefully. And this vessel-well, it isn't ideal. _Yours_, on the other hand, is strong. I want it."_  
_

"Hael, listen," Cas began, but he was cut off.

"No, _you_ listen! I will tell everyone- _everyone_\- about you. I'll warn them, I'll go on angel radio and tell them where you are. You can't move any faster than anyone else, and you'll have thousands on your tail. I want your vessel."

She was scared. Terrified, even, and not sure how to do anything. Castiel could empathize. But he couldn't let her do that.

"Show some reason, Hael!"

She turned to him, a look of pure terror on her face. "_No_," she said, gripping the steering wheel tightly. "_NO_."

Frowning again, Cas opened his mouth to ask a question when he was bombarded with voices. Angel radio. He'd kept it off, uninterested in what his siblings had to say, but this...nothing could prevent this.

_They're back_, it was saying. _Michael and Lucifer. They're back_.

All the color had drained from Hael's face. "It's impossible," she breathed, pressing harder on the gas pedal involuntarily.

Cas thought so, too. But maybe it wasn't. Apparently, it wasn't. You didn't just _lie_ about a thing like that. Especially if you're an angel, and especially if you're on Earth, vulnerable, and afraid.

So it had to be true.

Hael suddenly pulled out her angel blade, holding it tightly. Cas' eyes widened, and he quickly strapped on his seatbelt. Taking a deep breath, he leaned over and yanked the wheel, causing the car to swerve dramatically into a ditch.

The seatbelt saved him, but Hael fell forward onto the steering wheel, impaling herself in the shoulder with her own blade. Cas worked quickly, opening his door and running around to open Hael's. Within a matter of seconds, the bloodied angel was lying in the grass, gasping up at Castiel.

"I'll tell them," she gasped, a wild look in her eyes. "You'll have to kill me, because I'll tell all of them. Everyone will know that you're the angel responsible for letting Lucifer free, again."

Cas' jaw tightened. Hael closed her eyes, and Cas felt her reaching out, connecting...

He stabbed her. Hating himself, he stabbed her, and she smiled, almost as if saying _I told you so_ before she exploded in white light.

Castiel sagged. His car was smoking, he had just killed his sister, and Lucifer walked free. As Dean would say, _friggin' fantastic._

-:-

Dean laughed, watching Kevin. The prophet was a lightweight- no, not a lightweight. Kevin didn't have any weight at all. Two beers, and he was offering to sing One Direction's _What Makes You Beautiful_. _  
_

Beside him, Sam was laughing as well, and Kevin was insisting that _really, it has such a catchy melody_.

Suddenly, Dean's phone rang. "Alright, everyone, hold the party a sec," he called, as if it were more than just him, Sam, and Kevin in the room.

Cas' caller ID popped up. "Hey, Cas, what's up? You anywhere close?"

Cas' voice on the other end sounded haggard. "I'm...about four hours away. Dean, I have to tell you something."

"Yeah?"

"When...the angels fell..." Cas paused on the line, and Dean frowned, his excitement over having killed Abbadon wearing off quickly.

"Michael and Lucifer are also on Earth." Cas said in a monotone.

And Dean's world came crashing down. No, _no,_ they dealt with that shit four years ago, this could _not _be happening... not after they'd frigging _won_, for once..._  
_

Sam noticed his expression and gave Dean a worried _what's up?_ look. Dean waved his hand. _I'll tell you when I get off the phone_.

"Cas..."

"I'm sorry, Dean."

"Yeah."

Dean hung up. Anger surged through his body. _Damn_ Castiel. If he hadn't been so _stupid_, maybe...

But Dean had bigger problems. Much, much bigger problems. Roughly grabbing Sam, he pulled his sibling into the hall, ignoring Kevin's off-key singing.

Dean gave Sam a look, and even though he was looking at Sam, somehow the younger Winchester didn't feel like it was for him.

Lucifer emerged.

"Zeke," Dean growled, giving Lucifer a glare. "What. The _hell_."

"I was unaware," Lucifer assured Dean. "I have not tapped into Angel Radio, for fear of alerting Sam. There is a possibility that he could hear me then, and then he might choose to eject me. In my weakened state, I would be forced to leave, and we would both die."

"Unaware? You were just _unaware_ that Michael and Lucifer are back? How does that work, huh?" Dean snarled, eyes shooting daggers at 'Ezekiel.'_  
_

"Yes."

Dean said nothing, just stormed off to his room, because there wasn't anything he could do. If Ezekiel was telling the truth, there was nothing he could do. And if Ezekiel was lying...well, so far none of them were dead. Hopefully it stayed that way.

As Dean began walking away, Sam blinked. Dean had pulled him out to the hall and then just...stormed off? Confused, and more than a little worried, Sam ran up to him. "Dean? Dean, what did Cas say?"

Dean spun quickly, giving Sam a look that was almost pity. "Sam..." Dean hung his head, not meeting Sam's eyes. "Michael and Lucifer. They're free."

There was a pause in which Sam didn't really understand what Dean was saying. It didn't last long.

His eyes widened, and his mind reeled. It _wasn't_ _possible_. His jaw tightened, and Sam had to struggle not to let loose the slew of emotions he felt. Because he could deal with anything. Anything but that.

If only he had died instead of waking from that coma. There were a lot of _if only's_ in Sam Winchester's life, but that was the biggest one. If only he weren't alive.

* * *

A/N: _AND THE BOMB DROPS! Well, this should be fun. Up next: angst. angst. and another appearance from Abbadon. Please review! Have a nice day._

_-Jaq_


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: _Woah! Quarterly exams. They were upon me last week. Yuck! Can't wait until midterms...ha...ha..._

_Anyway, thanks for sticking with me this week! Shoutout to claraoswald8, BonanzaRocks, Kas3y, Charlie N. Perfuro, sammysmissingshoe, VattaKeto, Sharllissa, Jenna, and in-silent-seas for reviewing. Don't go anywhere, because this isn't over anytime soon. And now, the thing you've been waiting for...dun dun dun..._

_-Jaq_

* * *

Sam swallowed hard, his fists clenching almost by themselves. Ignoring Dean, who continued to walk away, Sam entered his bedroom and opened his laptop. Wearily, he opened a new tab and began to search. He looked for signs- of the apocalypse, murders, anything that was highly unusual.

Of course, since the angels had fallen, a lot of 'highly unusual' stuff had gone down. A lot of it was good- Sam found at least one case of people that had suddenly reformed and were now living helpful, peaceable lives, but the majority was bad. Within fifteen minutes, he discovered an article that described a murder victim as being killed 'stabbed through the heart by some sort of triangular-bladed knife.'

It could be any angel, not just Michael or Lucifer. And that was the problem. _Thousands_ of angels were on earth now, all vying for vessels and (from what Sam could gather from his knowledge of Heaven's politics) probably power as well. People were dying, the press was going crazy looking for a serial killer, and the only people who knew the truth couldn't do anything about it.

Running his hands through his hair, Sam closed his laptop and wondered, for the umpteenth time, how he was even alive. The Trials had been designed to kill him, he knew that- everything had led to it. Even though Dean had given him some BS about a miraculous healing, Sam was having trouble believing it. He didn't think (or maybe he didn't _want_ to think) that Dean would go so far as to make another deal, but...it was something to consider.

As soon as he had the thought, Sam felt guilty. Dean had promised not to do that. He wouldn't, not after what happened last time. Didn't his older brother at least deserve some credit?

Sighing, Sam leaned back on the bed. His room was sparse. Despite Dean's love of the bunker, Sam had never really adjusted to it. He had never felt like he had a home, somewhere he wasn't going to leave in a month or two, and it was hard to break the habit.

All of a sudden, he felt sleepy. It was barely midnight, and he'd slept well the night before, however, so he was a little confused. His pillows felt soft, and the room was pleasantly warm, and the slight noises all faded away into blissful silence.

Sam fought to stay awake, anxious now. He struggled to keep his eyelids open, and some part of him recognized that he should call out, but it never quite formed into words.

He was losing the battle, and within seconds, he was asleep.

-:-

Lucifer smiled and walked out of Sam's room, down the hallway, and into the kitchen in which Kevin was currently sitting, drinking water.

"Hey, Sammm," Kevin slurred, looking up.

Lucifer nodded, walking through without looking at the young man. Kevin's eyes followed him, and the prophet spoke again. "Hey, what did Dean tell you? On the phone?"

Silence. Kevin frowned, apparently not expecting an answer.

"Tell Dean I'll be back," Lucifer said instead, making for the door.

"Sure."

Lucifer smiled again, reveling in his vessel as he walked through the door. It had been too long...

-:-

"He said _what_?"

"He said he'd be back! What the hell do you want me to do, detain him? Dean, _what aren't you telling me?_" Kevin's drunken state had almost worn off, but he wasn't hungover. Yet.

Dean breathed in deeply, not saying anything. It was possible Sam had left, that he needed a walk. At three A.M. It was also possible that Ezekiel wasn't a good guy, and that Dean's brother had been hijacked. And Sam wouldn't just leave like that, especially not when he knew that Michael and Lucifer were free. So Dean was rightfully paranoid. _Especially _since Sam hadn't answered his phone calls.

"Nothing. Just- damn it, Kevin! Why do we always have to save the damn world?"

Kevin shrugged, almost glaring at Dean. "I'm not sure. But it'd be nice if you let me know what was going on half the time."

Dean glared back and stalked off, running a hand through his hair. "I'm gonna try his cell one more time."

"Whatever."

Irritated, Dean punched in the number once more. It rang four times, and then picked up. Relief washed through Dean, replaced almost immediately with anger. "Sam," he almost growled, "what the hell?"

"I was talking a _walk_, Dean," came the exasperated voice. "Look, I just needed a breather. It's- you don't understand."

"Damn right I don't! If anything, you should be staying in the bunker, where you're protected _against_ angels!"

There was a sigh, and then the call disconnected. Dean swore, shoving his phone back into his pocket. Stupid Sam. Kid always picked the worst times to go- go do yoga or some crap, or go for a _run_, or take a damn _walk_\- really, it was infuriating.

It wouldn't do to get paranoid, he supposed. He could chew Sam out about it when the kid got back. If he got back.

-:-

Lucifer cracked his neck. The man next to him- well, the man's body- lay on the ground, blood shining on the grass. Dipping a finger in the blood, the fallen angel drew an intricate pattern on the man's exposed chest- a summoning spell.

Within seconds, a woman appeared next to him, her fiery hair loose down her back. A smile formed on her face, contrasting grotesquely with the blood running down her shirt. "Milord," she said, dipping in a small curtsy.

"Abbadon." Lucifer smiled as well. "It would appear that my dearest brother has not found a vessel yet. As that is the case, it seems like we ought to cause a little damage."

"Of course. I live for destruction."

"I know you do."

"So, what's it going to be?"

Lucifer gave a cold smile. "I promised Dean Winchester something, a while ago. Do you remember the Croatoan virus?"

-:-

Castiel kept walking. Humanity-well, being human at least- was painful. His feet hurt, he was thirsty, and the slight injuries he had suffered in the crash throbbed persistently. No wonder humans took to things- alcohol, sex, gambling- so often to forget the present.

But the bunker was more than sixty miles away. At the rate he was going, Castiel estimated that it would take him nearly three days to get there, assuming he could find something to eat and a place to sleep along the way. He thought about calling Dean and asking to be picked up, but he didn't want to cause any trouble.

It was going to be a long day.

* * *

A/N: _I'm sorry, I know that that wasn't the most exciting chapter ever (or the longest). Next one will have more action, I promise! Plus, the next one won't be as short. And the next chapter has angst all around, yippee! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! Please drop a review if you've got a minute to spare. Have a nice day!_

_-Jaq_


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: _I know I promised that this would be up yesterday, but I got invited to Big Hero 6 (which was AWESOME, I recommend it to all of you), and then we ended up staying at the movie theater and watching other movies that were playing at the same time, so...that's my excuse..._

_thanks so much to VattaKeto, Charlie N. Perfuro, BonanzaRocks, Kas3y, claraoswald8, sammysmissingshoe, Jenna, Sharllissa, and in-silent-seas for your fabulous reviews! I hope that you all continue to enjoy. Thanks also to everyone who's followed, fav'd, and alerted me! It makes me happy..._

_Anyway, here's a bit of a long chapter to reward your having to wait. _

_-Jaq_

* * *

Dean had tried everything. He'd taken a damn GPS fix on Sam's phone, but nothing. Sam had turned the GPS off after Abbadon's call, claiming that it would be safer. After all, they hadn't been planning to go anywhere where it might be necessary, right? Dean wanted to slap his brother (after he hugged him and told him never to just _leave _again, because Dean couldn't take that).

Before he left, Sam had locked himself in his room, when he himself returned Dean could hear the unmistakable humming noise of Sam's laptop running. Sighing, he had let his brother be, because Sam didn't deserve this and if it made him feel better to research, fine. But Sam hadn't been acting weird or showing any signs of abnormal behavior that Dean's radar could pick up. Essentially, there was only one feasible option, but Dean was loath to admit it. There was no way in hell he was letting some angel just go off, gallivanting around in his brother's body, but if there was, Dean was going to be first in line to smite Ezekiel.

Kevin was sleeping, and even though Dean just wanted to shake the kid awake and get him working on some some sort of solution, he couldn't bring himself to. Kevin was just a kid, after all, and even though he constantly proved his toughness and had certainly suffered enough for several lifetimes, Dean kept seeing Sam in the ex-AP student. The way his brother and Kevin would just attack a problem, and not stop until they found an answer made Dean want to burst with pride. His own style of researching, "browse the internet off and on, with a porn tab open in the background,

Pulling out his cell phone, he dialed Cas' number. The phone had barely begun to ring when it picked up. "Hello?" Cas' gravelly voice asked, sounding hoarse.

"Cas! Where are you?"

There was a pause. "About twenty five miles from where you are. I should be there in a couple days."

"A- _a couple days?_ What the hell, Cas?" Dean asked, stunned.

"My car broke."

"I'll pick you up. You're on the main road, right?"

"I-yes. Dean, you don't have to..."

"Yeah, but I am."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'll tell you later." Dean snapped his phone shut, glancing over at the still-sleeping Kevin. With a sigh, he exited toward the garage.

-:-

_Sammy..._

Sam woke up with a jolt, panic immediately flooding through him. He was falling asleep, he was so tired and now- he must have been having a nightmare. Right? The panic receded a little, and Sam's brain calmed down.

He tried to sit up, but he couldn't. He couldn't open his eyes, or wiggle his fingers, or do anything. The panic flooded back, evidently here to stay. Hesitantly, he called out, thinking the thought as hard as he could. _Hello?_

_Don't you remember me, Sammy?_ came the response, sliding into his head like a silver snake poised to bite.

If Sam had been in control of his body, he would have been shaking, his pulse accelerating. He knew that voice. Knew it's inflections, the way it slid up at the end of words. After all, for almost two centuries it'd been the only one he'd heard. But if this was...if it really was..._please, no_...

A low laugh echoed in Sam's brain, and Sam prayed to die. _I see you remember me. It's nice to know I left an impression._

Sam steeled himself, preparing for the response. _What...how are you here? _

_I got free, Sammy. Remember? I think Dean may have mentioned that. _

No. This was a nightmare, because..._You needed my permission. It's impossible. _

_No, Sam..._

Suddenly, Sam was standing outside himself- his body lying prone on a hospital bed, intravenous tubes sprouting from his elbows and hands. Turning he spotted his brother. "Dean? What the hell?"

_Not quite, _said the soft voice, sick amusement coloring the tones. _Memories. I...liberated you from them. _

Sam watched as his brother stood up, pacing. Dean swore, kicked the chair, and ran a hand through his hair. Sam wanted to do something, _anything_, to stop Dean from acting like that. _Why are you showing me this?_

_Wait._ The laugh again.

Sam watched as Dean walked outside, and time seemed to move around him, like Sam was in a movie and somebody was playing with the fast forward button. Dean returned, followed by a young man in a hoodie and covered in blood.

"I can't heal him. Not like this."

"Not like this?" Dean exploded, his voice breaking? He's _dying_, you have to do _something_!"

The man frowned, walking closer to Sam. Scanning him. And Sam could see a cruel smile slide over his face, but Dean just saw the back of a stranger, into whose hands he was giving his brother's life.

"I...there may be a way," the man said, and Sam felt anger burning in him. How _dare_ Dean agree with this man? Who knew what his brother had paid? His soul? Again?

"Tell me," Dean whispered, and Sam could see the un-shed tears reflected in his brother's face.

"I have to...be inside of him."

Dean's head snapped up, and Sam saw his defenses spring up again. "What, like possess him? No way!"

"Dean, it may be the only way. He would not even know of my presence. I am in such a weak state myself that he could eject me at any time if he even knew of my presence. Trust me. You contacted Castiel, correct?"

Sam saw Dean's jaw tighten and his brother gave a curt nod.

"I'm on your side. Please, I want to help you."

Dean closed his eyes, and Sam could barely hear his whisper. _Forgive me, Sammy..._"Okay. What do we need to do?"

The scene switched. Sam was in a cozy room, with a fire. He saw himself, standing, and then Dean appeared. Dean plead with him, and Sam watched himself agree, and then Dean _changed_, into the hoodie-clad man from before, and Sam understood.

The scene faded to black.

_I think I'll let you watch for this, Sammy,_ Lucifer said again, and even though Sam knew that he couldn't do anything, he refused to respond.

_Of course, if you start getting annoying, I can always push you out. Trap you in a dream...you remember Hell, right, Sam? Even though it isn't a problem anymore. You still _remember. _And I could make it a problem again. That'd be interesting. But for now...well, enjoy the ride, Sammy._

Sam wanted to tell Lucifer that only Dean could call him that, but he was having doubts about that. How could Dean do that? How could his brother take him away...he'd been in Sam's head, _seen_ that Sam wanted to die, and he...he _violated_, breaking Sam's trust and...and letting _Lucifer_ in and after it all Sam didn't even know if he wanted to go back to Dean at all.

Lucifer started laughing again, and Sam remembered with a jolt that the fallen angel could see inside his head, inside _all_ his head. There were no secrets anymore, not for Sam.

Suddenly, Sam could see. He couldn't move his eyes, but he could _see, _and that was an improvement.

They were near a playground, and foreboding sank over Sam like a wave. Not kids. They couldn't hurt the kids.

_Of course we can hurt the kids, Sammy. In fact, if it bothers you so much, we'll make sure to hurt them a lot before they die._

_Please, _Sam tried, even though he knew that begging wouldn't work.

Sam's field of vision swung to the side, but what he saw was impossible. A young woman, with red hair and a leather jacket. It couldn't be..._Abbadon?_

_Of course. You don't really think I would just let you kill her, do you? My Knight? Come on, Sammy. Use that big brain of yours._

"Abbadon," Lucifer said, twisting Sam's face into a smile.

"Milord," she responded. "Are we beginning?"

Lucifer nodded, and Abbadon strode off to the playground, where children hung off the monkey bars and laughed. It was Saturday, Sam thought, that's why they weren't in school.

Nobody thought twice about Abbadon. She might have been a little young to have a child around the age of the rest of the children, but nobody would call her out on it. Sam could see that her palm was glittering red from a fresh cut.

With a soft jerk of her head, one of the children fell from the monkey bars. Apparently surprised, she rushed over. "Are you okay?" she asked, helping the little girl up. The girl nodded, looking frightened.

"Good," Abbadon said coldly, and discreetly placed her bleeding hand on the girl's scraped knee. Sam pushed, fighting to get free, but he was too weak. It might have been the Trials, or the fact that Sam hadn't drunk any demon blood, or any of a million reasons, but he couldn't do it. Lucifer laughed, the sound low and dangerous.

_That's right, Sammy. Not so strong anymore, are you?_

_Let-me-go!_ Sam screamed, anguish dripping from the thought. He had to do something- to stop this, to do _anything_.

_Tsk, tsk. Would you rather be back in Hell? _Suddenly, Sam's vision cut off, and he was burning. He felt the flames licking up him, but he still couldn't move, not even his facial muscles.

_NO!_ he cried, and Lucifer laughed again, letting Sam see again.

Sam watched the little girl run over to another woman, presumably her mother. The other woman thanked Abbadon for making sure that her daughter was okay, and then the pair hurried away to get a bandaid.

Abbadon walked back over to where Lucifer and Sam were standing. Smiling, her eyes flickered to black, and Sam tried to shrink away. "Sam," Abbadon said, smiling coldly. "How are you? I know you can hear me, and let me tell you," she continued, leaning in closer and stepping on her tiptoes to be able to whisper in his ear. "_I am going to kill your brother, and your prophet, and every other miserable human on this wreck of a planet, and Sam, it's all your fault._"

Lucifer smiled again, turning his face to Abbadon. "Of course you are," he said conspiratorially. Although I'm going to kill Sam's brother. It's more fitting that way. I want Sam to look into his brother's eyes as he watches them go dull, and see Dean's face as he realizes just how badly he screwed up. It'll be funny."

Abbadon nodded. "Of course, that makes sense." She turned toward the playground. "Little Suzy will infect her mother, and her father, and her two older brothers. They'll spread it to their friends, and..." she smiled, a look almost like longing took over her features. "Next, the world," she said, her voice airy and delighted.

Sam fought again, trying to break free, but again his struggles were futile.

-:-

By the time Dean arrived back at the bunker, Castiel in tow, it was almost eight in the morning. Kevin was still asleep, but Dean finally caved and woke the kid up. Kevin was in the shower- Dean could faintly hear the water running, and he decided that it would be the perfect time to discuss his brother with Cas.

"So, Cas," Dean said, his voice clipped. "Sam's disappeared."

Cas frowned. "He...disappeared? Where?"

"I don't know," Dean replied, his tone still dangerously calm. He took a deep breath. "I think..." he sat down heavily. "I made a mistake, Cas."

"Dean," Cas asked worriedly, "what did you do?"

Dean put his head in his hands, slumped on the kitchen table in defeat. "I...let an angel in," he muttered. "And before you tell me what a damn awful idea that was, I already know. I don't need a lecture. I need a spell to locate an angel."

"Have you told Kevin? He might be able to find something on the tablet."

"No."

"You should tell Kevin, Dean."

"Fine," Dean said bitterly, too tired and pissed at himself to put up much of a fight.

They waited until Kevin returned, black hair wet and tousled, before Dean dropped the bomb.

"Hey, Kev?"

Kevin looked up from where he was pouring cereal. "Yeah?"

"I...need a location spell. Is there a way to track an angel?"

Kevin frowned. "Probably. I saw something about that a week or two ago, but...it seemed unnecessary. Do you need it?" His voice sounded resigned, and Dean again was reminded of his brother.

"Yeah, that'd be great."

Kevin sighed, and Dean noticed just how dark the circles under the prophet's eyes. He wondered if the alcohol-induced sleep had been all that the ex-AP student had received all week. "Well, you know where to find me," the young man said, and took his cereal bowl into the study.

"Damn it, Sammy," Dean ground out, staring fiercely into the wall. "I'm gonna find you, if it takes everything I've got.

* * *

A/N: _Poor Sam...I just love writing angst so much...please leave a review! They take approximately forty seconds and make my whole day, so click that button! Thanks so much for reading and, as always, have a great day :)_

_-Jaq_


	6. Chapter 6

A'N: _Hey! I promised this today, so here we are :) Many thanks to everyone who followed, favorited, and to sammysmissingshoe, Frakking Toasters, claraoswald8, Kas3y, Charlie N. Perfuro, VattaKeto, The Hope Lions, Jenna, Sharllissa, and in-silent-seas for reviewing! You guys make my day :)_

_Enjoy!_

_-Jaq_

* * *

Dean rubbed a hand down his face, his eyes bleary and tired from scrolling though newspapers online all day. Standing up, he cracked his back and walked out of his room. Passing Kevin's room, he paused. Dean raised his hand, knocking slightly on the door. From inside came the sound of a chair scraping, a muffled yelp, and a thud. Dean debated entering, but remembered what had happened the last time he had tried to go into Kevin's room uninvited and decided against it. The kid was paranoid (rightly so), and Dean could live without being sprayed by the hose system Kevin had rigged up a second time.

After about thirty seconds, the door opened. Kevin stood there, looking like crap. His hair stuck up, flat on the side with a fading bruise on his cheek. Huge bags were under his eyes, and Dean got the feeling that he'd had a lot of caffeine. A lot.

"Dean!" Kevin said, his voice hoarse and slightly maniacal. "How nice of you to drop by your servant's quarters!"

Dean quirked a quick smile, but he wasn't in the mood for games. "How's the spell going?" he asked brusquely, moving past the prophet into the small room.

Kevin shrugged. "It's going okay. I've got most of the ingredients translated, there's just a couple more to go. And I know how to set it up. There's an incantation which I'm a little vague about, but it should be done in..." Kevin's eyes rolled up, and he nodded his head a little, thinking, "about seven hours," he continued.

Dean frowned. "Have you been eating or sleeping at all?"

Kevin gave a short, breathy laugh. "Coffee. Lots and lots of coffee, Dean."

Dean glanced around. Kevin had installed a coffee maker into his room a long time ago, and there were loads of used filters in the garbage can. Clothes were strewn about, along with ancient texts and sheets of paper covered in scrawls. "Well, ah, take care of yourself, buddy," Dean said awkwardly. "Your brain works better when you take care of yourself."

"I'll start to when you do," Kevin retorted under his breath, but if Dean heard him the hunter didn't respond.

"Guess I'll get back to research. But first, I'm getting food. You want anything?"

Kevin shrugged again. "Whatever's easy. I think there's some Ramen in the pantry."

"Gotcha."

Dean left the room, wandering into the kitchen and opening the pantry door. There wasn't a lot of stuff, mainly Ramen, cereal, and a couple packets of hamburger mix that were collecting dust in a corner. It was Sam's turn to shop that wee, and he should have done it the day before it all went bad. Dean hadn't bothered to go. Throwing a cup of soy noodles into the microwave, he leaned against the fridge and sighed. Once they located Ezekiel, it would be pretty difficult to do anything about it. But that was the next step. That could worry about itself for now, Dean had enough on his plate.

The microwave dinged, and Dean took out the cup-o-noodles, searching for a spoon. He walked the meal (if it could be called a meal) back down to Kevin's room and stuck his head in. The door hadn't been closed.

"Food," he said simply, and Kevin nodded, taking it and thanking him. Dean grunted in response and went back to fix his own dinner.

He ate by himself, letting his thoughts wander. Castiel was either in his room or somewhere else- it wasn't Dean's job to keep track of him, after all, Cas could do what he wanted-and it wasn't like he could have a heart-to-heart with Kevin. Really, Dean was just frustrated. With the world, with Sam, but mostly with himself. If he hadn't been so damn _stupid_, and told Sam about it in the first place, none of this would have happened. Sam could have fought, and maybe won, and none of this would have happened. Hell, what did Sam even know? For all Dean knew, Sam wasn't even in the picture anymore. Dean's hands clenched involuntarily at the thought. Castiel had said Ezekiel could be trusted. Maybe they were...avoiding danger, taking out a threat.

And maybe Dean would buy a can of spraypaint and redo the Impala with some green polka dots. Maybe.

He cursed, slamming his hand down. _Seven hours!_ That was far too long. He stood up and walked back to Kevin's.

"Hey, Kevin?" he called through the door.

There was a pause in the scribbling sound, and Kevin's voice floated back. "Yeah?"

"What are the ingredients? I have to do something useful."

"Uh. Yeah, okay." Dean heard papers rustling, and a couple muttered curses. Then-

"Okay, are you ready?"

Dean nodded. Then, remembering that Kevin couldn't actually _see_ him, he called, "yeah."

"First ingredient: angel blood. Second ingredient: something sentimental of the angel's human vessel's. Third ingredient: the angel's name, in Enochian. I'm not quite sure what this means, if you have to _say_ it, or like, write it down. Anyway, that's it. It's pretty simple. There's an incantation, and then a bunch of crazy sigil-y stuff, but I haven't gotten that far."

"Great. Thanks." That wouldn't be too hard. Cas was...

No, it would be _that hard_. In fact, it might be nearly impossible, seeing as they no longer had an angel at their disposal. Angel blood. Hah.

Well, he could get something of Sam's. That wouldn't be hard. And the name, _Ezekiel_, wouldn't be hard either. He could talk to Cas about the blood.

Dean took a deep breath and walked towards Sam's room. He hadn't really been in his brother's room before, seeing as he respected his brother's right to privacy in their home. The door was closed, and Dean swallowed the lump in his throat and chided himself for being such a wuss. He pushed open the door, looking around.

It was sparse, and Dean frowned slightly. He knew Sam wasn't as spread-out as he was, but this...this wasn't a place that was _lived_ in. It was like Sam was just staying in another hotel, waiting for the inevitable move to a new town and a new job.

Dean didn't acknowledge it, but a part of him was almost offended. This was their home. It was...it should be. He sighed. Surely Sam had some memento that he could use. There weren't any photos on the bedside table, and Sam's clothes were all neatly folded in the corner of the dresser. Anything that wasn't utilized for a functional purpose was bare. Dean frowned.

Spying Sam's dust-covered duffel in the corner of the closet, Dean lugged it out. He looked through all the pockets until he struck gold. A paperclip held together a few well-thumbed photos including several of Sam and Jess. There was one of Sam and Dean, and there, in the very back, was a yellowed photograph of the Winchester family before it all. Sam was just a baby, wrapped in a light blanket and held by a four-year-old Dean whose chest was puffed out with pride at the honor of holding his baby brother. Wide grins covered all of their faces, and Mary, who was standing over Dean and watching closely, was beautiful. Dean felt the lump in his throat come back and he angrily put the photos back. Some other memento would have to do.

Pawing through the rest of his brother's duffel bag, Dean finally found an exercise watch in the corner. It was unused, and didn't work, and Dean wondered why it was there. He hoped it was sentimental enough.

Dean checked his own watch. Still six and a half hours to go, unless Kevin made a miraculous breakthrough.

-:-

New York City, New York

The devil was on 5th Avenue. Lucifer walked several blocks, reveling in Sam's useless struggles to escape. He stopped at 33rd and 5th, turning his gaze to a Wendy's. Abbadon, who was wearing a black leather jacket to hide the blood on her shirt, raised her eyebrow.

He nodded, and Abbadon sauntered into the Wendy's. Sam saw a flash of blood on her hand as her nails cut into it, and then she was gone.

Sam heard screaming.

Minutes later, Abbadon ran out, and nodded breathlessly. A wild look was in her eyes, and Sam saw through Lucifer's eyes how exhilarated she was. She _loved_ this._  
_

"Next stop, Tokyo," she said, smiling.

-:-

"Dean, it's done," Kevin called, and Dean snapped to attention. Hurrying to Kevin's room, he waited impatiently while Kevin disabled the "alarm" system.

"What else do we need?"

"Nothing. It's pretty simple, we'll need a map of the world. We do the spell, and it'll show where your angel." Kevin crossed his arms. "There's also an incantation."

"What is it?"

"I'm not telling you until you tell me what's up," Kevin replied, his short temper flaring.

"Kevin," Dean began in a patronizing tone, but Kevin put up an arm.

"No! I've risked my life for you countless times. I want to know what's going on."

"I-I screwed up, Kev!" Dean snapped.

Kevin's face softened, but only for an instant. "So you've said. Is it Sam?"

Dean didn't answer, but his face gave him away. Kevin gave him a fierce look. "We'll get through this, Dean," the prophet declared. "He's possessed by an angel, isn't he?"

"You're too damn smart for your own good," Dean growled, but he didn't mean it. It was almost relieving, in a way, to let Kevin know. At least this way, the kid wouldn't get in the way.

Kevin gave a nod. "Yeah, I get that." He handed Dean a slip of paper. "Here's the incantation. We should do it in the foyer, it's the most open space."

Dean nodded. "I've got all the ingredients. Turns out the Men of Letters have a pretty substantial vault, including," he tapped his pocket, "angel blood."

Kevin nodded grimly.

They drew the giant sigil in the foyer, and laid a map of the world on top of it. Kevin had declared that they needed to speak the angel's name, and Dean had a piece of paper all ready. Taking a deep breath, Dean tossed Sam's watch into the center, along with the angel blood. He then spoke Ezekiel's name, and the incantation.

Nothing.

Then, a thin ring of fire began to eat away at the map. Within a few seconds, all that was left was an odd symbol. Kevin frowned and hurriedly grabbed his pencil, writing it on the nearest available surface (which happened to be the table).

Then it imploded, leaving the watch, soaked in blood, rattling to the ground.

"What the hell was that?" Dean exploded, panic evident in his eyes.

Kevin frowned and disappeared back into his room. A minute later, he returned, toting a notebook. "Look," he said, showing Dean an identical symbol. "It means- well, missing. Like, what it means is that Ezekiel isn't the angel riding Sam." Kevin winced at his wording.

A look of pure horror crossed Dean's face, and he grabbed the prophet. "Kev, I need you to redo it. You got another map?"

Kevin nodded and pulled one out of a drawer in which there were many.

Dean was pale, his freckles standing out sharply from his skin. Setting up the experiment again, Dean sprinkled more blood onto the watch. In a hoarse whisper, he took a deep breath.

_"Lucifer._"

Kevin, beside him, gave a sharp intake of breath, but the map had already begun burning. Within seconds, there was only one place left.

San Francisco, California.

Dean sat down, his legs giving way. He was shaking his head, muttering, his fingers fisting in his hair. His eyes bulged, and goosebumps prickled on his skin.

Not Sammy, not again.

But luck was never on the Winchesters' side, and this seemed to be no exception.

* * *

A/N 2: _I apologize for the lack of Sam, Lucifer, and Abbadon in this chapter...but next chapter will be heavy on them! Also: as I promised Kas3y, hurt Sam in the next chapter...which will hopefully be up Friday! _

_If you've got a second, mind reviewing? It would be awesome!_

_-Jaq_

_Also: If you're looking for something else to read, my other ongoing story, Last Year's Wishes, is going pretty good. Just saying..._

_Have a great day! _


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: I'm sorry for the length of time between updates. In my defense, I've been working on an enormous (well, relatively) paper. Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed- I didn't have the time to respond, and I apologize again. I swore to myself I'd have this up the second I finished with it, so here you are, at this ungodly hour of the morning: the seventh chapter installment. Enjoy! _

_-Jaq_

* * *

_-"Some sort of strange virus, the likes of which have never been seen before. Isn't that right, Mel?"_

A young woman in a white CDC uniform nodded. "_Yes. It seems to be causing violence, rage- we're thinking it's connected, perhaps, to mad cow disease. Because no pathogen has been discovered, we're thinking maybe it's being caused by prions. It's spread by blood contact, that we're sure of."_

The anchorwoman nodded grimly and addressed the camera again. "_So there you have it, America- a strange new disease, caused by blood-on-blood contact, that causes deadly violence. And now, we have Don with an update of the strange temperature fluctuations going on all over the world..."_

Dean clicked off the television and swallowed another gulp of bourbon. He was drinking it straight out of the bottle now, and it was always within an arm's reach. He was just about to stand up- _honestly_, he was- when Kevin burst into the room, furious.

"Dean," the prophet warned in a low voice, "I don't know what you think you're doing, but you aren't helping anyone by sitting and drinking yourself to death. I thought you wanted to help Sam!"

Dean looked up, squinting until he no longer saw two Kevins. "Sam's gone, Kevin," he murmured angrily. "The Apocalypse is here. Trust me, I know."

"What the hell do you mean, you _know_?" Kevin shot back, gesturing wildly with his arms. His eyes flashed, and he marched up to Dean. "Either you get things straight, like, _yesterday_, or you tell me how the hell you _know_ you have to give up?"

Dean didn't even flinch, just stared up at Kevin with dead eyes. "I just do. There's nothing I can do. I tried everything. And I mean _everything_, Kevin. Averting-the-Apocalypse everything. But Fate jus' doesn't like me." Dean settled back down in his chair and reached for his bourbon again, but Kevin snatched it away.

"Yeah? Then how about you try harder! Look, Dean, we have to warn people- I don't know what this blood disease is, per se, but something tells me you do, and that it's not good-"

"_That's_ an understatement-"

"So why don't you get off your ass and _help_ for once!" Kevin continued, fury radiating out of his small frame. "You act like we've already lost!"

Dean spun around, and then immediately wished he hadn't, grabbing his head and staving off a head rush. "sWho's to say we haven't? Sammy's gone, the world is going to hell-_literally_-Lucifer's free, and on top of all that, oh yeah, we're _two guys_ against basically everyone."

Kevin stood, tight-lipped. "Fine. You sit here and drink yourself to death. I'm going to warn people about this disease, and then I'm going to figure out how to save Sam. By myself."

Dean shrugged, letting out a humorless laugh. "Good luck. Tell me if you find anything, will you?"

-:-

_Stop fighting, Sammy. You're not going to win._

Sam struggled, trying desperately to win control. _I did before,_ he thought.

A laugh. _But that was when you were strong, Sammy. And you're still so weak. Plus, Dean isn't going to save you this time. No, Dean's going to be...drinking, and crying, and miserable. Because he knows he can't do anything to stop it. _

Sam kept trying, throwing his entire soul into it. He yelled senselessly, _willing_ himself to win. Nothing. Not even an inch of give.

_Stop fighting, Sammy..._

_Don't call me that, you son of a bitch, _Sam cried, struggling more. _Don't-you-dare-_

Lucifer laughed again, and Sam almost shrank back. Almost. _Don't call you what, Sammy? You think _I _don't get to call you whatever I want? We spent so much time together, Sammy, so much more than Dean will ever know..._

Sam steeled himself, putting up defenses, trying to seal himself off, trying to do anything at all to protect himself against the evil that was controlling every aspect of him save his mind-

_Remember, Sam? What fun we used to have?_

Sam refused to answer, trying to burrow into himself, find a place in his mind to hide-

_Sam, I'm disappointed. You should know you can't hide from me. Come on, don't you want to play? It was so much fun! We'd see how long you could go without screaming, and then when you did we'd make it hurt more. You lasted so long sometimes, but you always screamed in the end. Because you're weak, Sam._

Sam's mind reeled, recalling things he didn't want to. _No, no, no..._Cas had healed him. Cas had taken away the memories-

_But did he? No, he only took away their _effect_. But you still have those memories, Sammy boy. And if you're really trying that hard to forget, we can make some more. Wouldn't that be fun? _

Sam wouldn't break. It was always psychological torture first. And then...well, physical torture, and if the devil was in a good mood, it was both. How could this happen? How could Dean _trust_ an angel? Why- Why hadn't his brother just let him _die_? Sam felt a surge of anger, and even though he knew he was being influenced, he couldn't help himself. How _dare_ Dean make those decisions for him, without his permission? Out of what, _love?_ Love so exponentially screwed up that Dean would rather have Sam well than the entire world? Now that was screwed up, and Sam vowed he wouldn't do the same thing. No, if Dean wanted to die, he could damn well die, for all Sam cared.

_Poor Sammy. He can't trust anybody, not even his brother or the voice inside his head. Wow, it must really suck to be you. _

Suddenly, Sam had a body. Of sorts. He knew they were still inside his head, but now he had some sort of representation of a body. Lucifer was standing in front of him, wearing a white suit and smiling in a way that meant Sam was about to be in a world of pain.

Sam swallowed. Looked around. It was a room without doors, completely black, with a high ceiling that didn't seem to end, and in one corner was a small pile of...instruments. Sam recognized it.

The Cage could take whatever form Lucifer wanted it to take, of course- a box or a labyrinth or just flames, everywhere, but this was how it really was, without any added dressing. Just a box, roughly fifty feet by fifty feet, dimly lit and without a light source, with just Sam and Lucifer.

Michael and Adam had been there, too, but Sam remembered Michael doing something, trapping the other man and himself into a corner where Lucifer couldn't reach. The archangel had looked at Sam with sympathy, but he hadn't helped anyone but his own vessel. For all Sam knew, they were still there, doing who-knows-what (but it probably wasn't bad considering the fact that Michael was supposedly just and not really into torturing for gun), but he still felt the crushing guilt of leaving his half-brother there for centuries.

But now was not the time for memories. Sam glanced around, his fake-heart speeding up in his fake-chest, spurring his fake-legs into moving backward into the fake-corner, where Sam willed his fake-self not to shake or beg for mercy.

There was never any mercy.

Lucifer walked-no, _strolled_ towards Sam. "I let you off so easy last time," the fallen angel mused. "I still hoped that you would come to your senses, join me. We could have been stronger, you would have been happier...but no biggie." Shrug. "This time...well, Sam, I can't have you trying to fight your way out, can I? So while Abbadon and myself raise hell above, here, in your mind..." he smiled. "We're going to have fun."

-:-

By doing a quick Web search, Kevin was able to discover that the 'blood thing' was more like a 'worldwide pandemic.' So far, it was mostly in major cities, but it had spread rapidly, and the entire DC-metro area was completely quarantined. People were freaking out, and some religious groups were claiming that it was the Apocalypse, that this was the start of the end of the world.

After just thirty minutes of researching, Kevin was completely spooked. Running back to Dean, he stood in front of the other man with a serious expression.

"Dean. I-" he stopped. "Dean, this is serious. In _days_, we're talking _forty-eight hours here- _thousands of people have died. And more could be infected. So you better tell me every damn think you _know_ about this disease."

"It's a demon virus," Dean said monotonously. He looked up, his smile sardonic. "Makes you mad. Only person immune to it is Sammy, because Sammy's special." Dean reached for the bottle, but Kevin smacked his hand.

"so this...demon virus. Is there a way to stop it?"

"Nope."

Kevin swallowed hard. "Well than, I guess...you'd better start calling on people you trust."

-:-

Sam was thrown backwards, hitting the wall behind him and landing in a sprawled heap on the floor. He sat up, breathing heavily. Lucifer granted the young man no repriev, holding him by the throat and dragging him up the wal. Sam's hands clutched wildly at his throat. His eyes bulged, and his neck strained from the weight of his body. Stil, he didn't make a noise. Not yet. Sam could last longer than that.

Suddenly, claws erupted out of Lucifer's hands, digging into the tender flesh of Sam's neck. Rivulets of blood ran down his body, creating dark little rivers that flowed wetly underneath his shirt. Sam didn't scream at all. He remained silent, screwing his eyes shut and wishing he didn't exist.

Eventually, Sam was let down. He collapsed onto the floor, gasping for breath. All of his strength was sapped away; another side affect of the Cage, and he lay limply against a wall.

His tormentor smiled, reaching out with a knife to stroke Sam's collar bone. A quick flash, and the blade was no longer resting on top of Sam's skin but underneath it, neatly filleting it away from the bone.

And Sam still didn't scream. His muscles bunched together, jumpy, but he clamped his mouth shut. Lucifer was always playing the games. And Sam hated to play along, but more than that he hated to lose. Because losing was pain. Winning was pain, too, but losing...

Sam shuddered, memories he didn't want whirling through his brain.

"It's so nice to have you all to myself," the devil continued, taking the knife and stabbing Sam's left shoulder, right through his brachial plexus.

Sam gasped, eyes flying open and all body parts that were able to move tensing. His left arm, of course, was now immobile.

But he didn't scream. Sam could usually last over three hours without screaming.

Suddenly there was a pause in the pain. "Your cellphone's ringing, Sammy," Sam's own voice whispered inside his ear. "Time to come back to reality."

There was a snap, and Sam was back in his own body. That is, he was shoved inside his mind, able to use his senses but not control them.

He felt Lucifer slip his hand inside his pocket, pulling out Sam's cellphone.

"Hello."

Dean was on the other line, sounding drunk. "Kev-Kevin told me to call who I trust. I-I trust you, Sammy, if you can hear me, I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry..."

Lucifer laughed, a low, sinister noise that Sam would never have made, and responded. "It's such a shame, Dean. Sammy here doesn't feel the same way. Goodby, big brother. Call me again and I'll make your death long and painful."

He snapped the phone shut, burying it again in his pocket. Sam's spirits sunk.

Once again, he was in the box. This time, he raised his fists. Better to go down swinging, huh? No matter the countless other times he'd tried it. This time he could do it.

Lucifer raised his eyebrows. "A fist fight, Sammy? So...uncouth."

Sam glared back, defiant.

"Fine. Have it your way."

Sam circled his opponent slowly, trying to gauge how long he could last.

Without warning, a fist crashed into the side of his head and Sam went down. He grunted, curling into the fetal position while punch after punch rained down on him, breaking bones audibly and drawing blood in several places.

Sam wanted to cry, but he hadn't cried for seven hours last time. He could hold out.

"That's right, Sammy. You can hold out," the devil mocked, slamming a fist into Sam's back, an already broken rib punching through the surface of skin.

The white bone contrasted sharply with the red of his blood, and Sam looked down. Had they been able to, his pain sensors would have overloaded and he would have blacked out.

But he didn't.

He screamed.

* * *

A/N 2: _Please review! I promise I'll respond to all of tem this time. Plus, they make me less stressed over writing. Thanks do reading. Have a great day! _

_-Jaq_


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: _Ah! Apologies for the super-long wait in between chapters! The next one will be up sooner, and after than just one week until winter break, where I will be able to write more. Thanks so much to BonanzaRocks, Kas3y, thefriendlyguy63, sammysmissingshoe, Armand, VattaKeto, The Hope Lions, Charlie N. Perfuro, Jenna, Sharllissa, and in-silent-seas! You are all amazing. I can't tell you how happy it makes me when I see new people reviewing, as well as how fun it is to read reviews from the same people every chapter. _

_A healthy dose of angst in this chapter, beware! Enjoy!  
_

_-Jaq_

* * *

Dean sat in his room, staring at the wall. His hands clutched the photo of himself and Sam, cradling it as a lover. Tear tracks burned lines down his face, but they were dry now.

There was a fly on the wall, and it was crawling slowly upward, one minuscule leg at a time. It couldn't see the spiderweb that awaited it, but Dean could. He watched numbly as the fly crawled higher and higher, until it was just inches from the spiderweb.

With a twitch, the spider grabbed the fly. It was so fast that if Dean had blinked, he would have missed it. The fly struggled, using its wings for the first time since Dean had first noticed it inching up the wall. However, it was too late, and as Dean watched, the spider wrapped up the fly in its sticky webbing.

Life was easier if you were the spider.

And it was even easier if you were an outsider, just watching it all. If you were the one who could see that the fly needed to use its wings and escape, that there was a spider waiting around the next corner.

_Damn it all. _Dean just couldn't do one thing without screwing it all up, could he? Every time they took one step forward, they took two steps back. Hollowly, Dean looked up at the fly. It was dead now, and the spider was sitting contentedly in its web, waiting for its next victim.

A thought sparked in the back of his head. Micheal. If Michael had his true vessel, along with Lucifer, then could they save the world? Could they do something, anything, to try and prevent the Apocalypse, _again_?

Dean didn't want to. With every fiber that he had, he didn't want to, but he just didn't have the will anymore. It could save Sam. If anything, it could stop Sammy from getting hurt more. And Sam deserved that, right? Even if the world didn't _deserve _to be saved, if the Apocalypse was inevitable, Sam had suffered enough.

Looking down at the photograph, Dean tightened his jaw. He had been twenty six or twenty seven, and Sam about twenty two. It was less than a year than Sam had left Stanford, and both men were so..._innocent. _No Hell. No Apocalypse, no soul selling, just the two of them, the Impala, and the world.

Sam was smiling brilliantly, his dimples showing, and Dean was laughing at something, not looking at the camera. It was in Bobby's yard, presumably taken by the man himself. Bobby. A twang pulled in Dean's chest. Just another person he couldn't save.

They had been free, and untouched by angels and demons...hell, Dean thought, they probably didn't even know what Sam's crazy visions were yet. Everything was simple. Then it had all gone to hell, literally, and he'd had to learn to walk again.

They'd tried to have the same dynamic, but it was never the same. Even after Dean's deal, it was never the same. They'd had to relearn everything, and it just wasn't the same. They didn't trust each other as much, didn't share everything, didn't have each other's backs quite as much.

And after the Deal, Dean had just kept screwing up, one after another. Sam had, too, but not on his own.

The sun had almost completely gone down, and Dean's room was cloaked in darkness. Shadows clung to every object, and Dean could barely make out the fine details on the photograph. He grasped it tightly with both hands, bowing his head. Why did it always have to be them? Why did Sam and him always get the short end of the stick, the side that caused pain and misery?

Mastering himself again, he opened his jacket. He normally didn't keep anything in the inside pocket, but he opened it now. Folding the photo carefully, making sure he kept the original creases, he tucked it in. It was sentimental, and a part of Dean felt a little silly doing it, but it helped.

And if he really was going to go through with this, he could use all the help he could get.

Standing up, he closed his eyes. The last strains of sun lit up a strip of orange on the ceiling, illuminating the spiderweb with ghostly lines.

"Michael?" He asked, barely muttering the word. "I...If you're there," he continued, forcing himself to stay calm and not letting his voice shake. "Yes. Please, just...fix this, okay?" He raised his voice, opening his eyes. "Fix this!"

Nothing.

-:-

Sam was in a dark box. he couldn't hear, see, or feel the outside, and he didn't want to. He couldn't move; the sides of the box pressed in all over. He couldn't breathe either, just drown in the blackness. He wanted to give up, but he couldn't even do that, couldn't just let _go_. Occasionally he would be yanked back to reality, forced to watch and feel as Lucifer rode him around; occasionally he would be tortured, but mostly he just stayed in the box.

Suddenly he was pulled from the box, every part of him hurting as he was forced into reality. He didn't know where he was, only that Abbadon was standing next to him, and in front of the both of them was a man that Sam vaguely recognized.

"Metatron," Lucifer said, smirking, and Sam remembered.

_See, Sam, we can have fun. Watch this, _came that slithering voice inside his head.

Sam couldn't _not_ watch. Metatron smiled, recognizing them. "Hello, brother. I see you've got your favorite vessel, haven't you."

Lucifer smiled again, and Sam felt uneasy. Why were they there? What were they doing? He didn't like being referred to as an object.

_Just be patient._

Sam hated it, how the archangel could read his thoughts just like that, without even a paper-thin barrier between them. He _hated_ it.

"So have you come to join me, or do I have to kill you?" Metatron asked, pouting slightly at the last phrase.

"Kill you." An angel blade fell from Sam's sleeve, and the man wondered who had died for them to receive possession of it.

"You think you can do that?"

"You're just a seraph, clocked up on juice maybe, but still nowhere near my level," Lucifer said with arrogance. Metatron's smile faltered, but he also drew a blade, lunging unceremoniously. Easily, Lucifer parried, riposting quickly. Metatron circled his blade, but he wasn't fast enough. With a sickening _shhick_, the blade sank into the pudgy vessel's chest.

Metatron looked down at the blade, shrugging and smiling triumphantly. "I guess your plan worked."

"No." Putting his hand to Metatron's head, Lucifer's power surged. _Now, Sam._

Sam didn't know what he was supposed to do, and if he did he would have tried to do the opposite, but he still couldn't do anything.

As the light shined through on Metatron's face, Sam suddenly felt an excruciating pain, as if he was being torn apart (and he knew from experience how that felt). Metatron's face turned from slightly smug to afraid, and seconds later he was falling to the floor, smoking.

"God? Really?" Lucifer said, raising one of Sam's eyebrows. Turning, he walked out.

Sam couldn't breathe, he couldn't do anything, he was _dying, _he was going to die, he was _not okay. _

_Essence, soul...Sam, they're the strongest things in existence. I hope you don't mind me borrowing some. _

Sam wanted to scream, cry out...he wanted anything, even back inside the box, even _torture_, because it was better than this-

Sam was inside the room again, _the _room, and he was curled in a corner, looking up at Lucifer.

"That hurt, didn't it," the fallen angel said, crouching down next to Sam. Sam shrunk away, curling in on himself more.

"We have more to do, Sammy...the whole world, _mine_. Won't it be amazing?"

Sam didn't answer. He didn't have to. It wasn't like he could hide anything anyway.

-:-

Dean screamed, his voice hoarse, tears running down his face. "_Fix this, you son of a bitch! Fix this!" _

He looked out the window at the dark landscape. Maybe Micheal was the goddamn person looking on, watching Dean crawl slowly to the spider, and maybe Dean was already in the spider's grip, but he wasn't going to give up.

He walked downstairs, his resolve set. Kevin was sitting at the table, a laptop open, scribbling madly.

"Dean!" Kevin's eyes were wild. "Dean, the whole _world's_ collapsing."

"Yeah, buddy. I know." He sighed. "Well, I guess we have to set up a camp. Listen, Kev, we're gonna win, okay?"

Kevin narrowed his eyes slightly. "You know something."

"It's nothing-"

"No, it's not nothing," Kevin said angrily. "We're in this _together_, and you damn well better tell me everything you know."

Dean sighed angrily. "Fine. Long story short, I got zapped to the future, and in the future, it was...basically this. Okay? Sammy was...gone, and the Croatoan virus was everywhere. I...met myself, and I had started a camp. And we were one of the very few places left."

Dean paused, lost in thought. There were a few key differences. Sam hadn't been possessed since 2009, for one, and for another, Bobby was dead. So he had already changed _some_ things, right?

It wouldn't end the same way, Dean vowed. He wouldn't let it.

* * *

A/N: _Well, that was special. _I will be in my panic room hoarding toilet paper if you need me. Please leave a review if you enjoyed this!__

__-Jaq__


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: _Thank you all so much for sticking with me! This story is so fun to write and even though my updates have been a little spread out, rest assured that come winter break they will get a lot sooner. Just a warning: I'm going to be a biochemistry major, and as such I have a field day with the Croatoan virus. I have all sorts of theories, the simplest explained here. Please tell me if you agree and think it makes sense! _

_Thanks to Sharllissa, sammysmissingshoe, The Hope Lions, BonanzaRocks, Kas3y, Armand, VattaKeto, Jenna, and in-silent-seas for your reviews! Please enjoy. _

_-Jaq_

* * *

Dean frowned, looking at the papers strewn around Kevin and himself. Several of them depicted gruesome images of bloody bodies; others were filled with text.

"Dammit, Kevin," Dean sighed, rubbing his eyes. "There's nothing on here about the virus, or if it's stoppable. Dammit, we don't even know how it works!"

Kevin was frowning as well, his sharp eyes scanning page after page. "If it's like other viruses, it embeds itself into the DNA of the host cell, right?" Without waiting for Dean to answer, he pulled a blank paper over to him and picked up a pencil. Drawing a circle labeled "host cell," he continued. "Once the virus DNA has been incorporated into the host cell's DNA, it wires the host cell to create more viruses. until the cell bursts." Kevin drew a bunch of oddly-shaped pieces labeled "viruses" bursting out of the cell. "Most viruses go into the lysogenic cycle, however," Kevin said, watching as Dean struggled to stay focused, "and stay in the cell, dormant, for a period of time."

"That's why people get herpes again and again," Dean interjected.

Kevin's face reddened slightly at the mention of herpes, but he nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, Dean. That's why- uh, herpes, comes back. Anyway, as I was saying, this demon virus should go into the lysogenic cycle if it follows the laws of normal viruses, which I'm hypothesizing it does. If it does, we can look for a way to prevent it from recurring as the same virus once it enters the lysogenic cycle. It's like Shingles. You know, the chickenpox virus that they have ads on TV all the time for?"

Dean nodded, his face furrowed, not understanding.

"_Well_," Kevin said excitedly, gesturing with his hands. "Because the Shingles virus has already been exposed to the body through chickenpox, it comes again. But there's a _vaccine_ for Shingles, Dean! If this is anything like normal viruses, we should be able to figure it out. And I'd hedge a guess that we have more resources than the average doctor." Kevin took a deep breath, sitting back in his chair and smiling.

"I...I don't know, Kevin. I don't think it's anything like all of your normal viruses."

"But we don't _know_ that, Dean! I've got a lot of theories about ghosts, too, and physical planes, and the whole vampire thing? It's all a kind of mutated gene." Kevin's voice had steadily risen in volume, and his face become more and more excited. "I know it seems like nothing supernatural agrees with science, but I think there's scientific explanations for everything. _Everything, _Dean!"

Dean gave Kevin a weary smile. "Alright, suppose you're right. How do you go about procuring this Croatoan vaccine?"

Kevin frowned slightly. "Well, usually, vaccines are weakened forms of the original virus. That causes the white blood cells to recognize it and the immune system able to fight it off. Because this virus infects people's blood, I'd say you'd have to have a vaccine of sorts made out of demon blood."

"No."

Kevin's eyebrows raised, surprised. "No? But it's the best chance. I'd bet that it would work, too."

"It works," Dean said shortly, sending Kevin a glare, "and we aren't using it. Next point."

"It _works?_ And you didn't tell me? Dean, we could have used this information _hours_ ago!" Kevin exclaimed, angry.

"I didn't know it worked, dumbass," Dean snarked back. "And it has nasty side affects. So if there isn't another way of preventing the virus, then there's no point in trying. What we need to do is set up a safe camp."

"We could use the bunker," Kevin suggested, wisely letting the demon virus subject drop.

"No..." Dean stared into space. "Chiquata. It's near Kansas City."

"Kansas City? Kansas City's full of infected people," Kevin said, frowning.

"Trust me," Dean replied.

-:-

After packing as many weapons, extra belongings, and books (Dean, they could be _useful!_), Dean, Castiel, and Kevin set out for Kansas City. After much arguing, Kevin was riding shotgun. Dean, of course, was driving his beloved car. He remembered the rusted-over version he had seen in the vision several years prior, and internally shuddered. He wouldn't let that happen to his baby, right? Not this time.

Dean cranked the music up, Zeppelin's _Black Dog_ churning through the speakers. He needed to focus on something other than the fact that Sam was possessed by Lucifer with no way to escape, because that made him want to veer the wheel into oncoming traffic and just get it over with.

Dean didn't, though. Instead, he drove, listening to the hum of the motor and seeing the trees whip past.

The closer he got to the city, the less cars there were, something which was unexpected. Soon, they were only passing one car every couple minutes. The radio stations were all dead, and Dean had yet another terrifying flashback. Taking an exit instead of entering the city, he turned on his handheld radio.

It took several minutes, but finally they found a channel. Dean listened to the choppy, garbled voices before speaking his own. "Hello?"

The voices stopped. "Who is this?" came a reply, static making it barely decipherable.

"I'm a hunter," Dean said, speaking loudly and enunciating. "Word is you've got a camp. Is that true?"

"What-say-the name of-camp is?" replied the voice, breaking up.

Dean slowed the car to a stop, and the signal improved slightly. "Chiquata?"

There was a pause. "Where are you?"

"Pulled over on the Harry Darby Memorial Highway. Can you give me coordinates?"

The speaker did, and Kevin wrote down the coordinates, plugging them into his satellite phone. When the results popped up, he nodded to Dean.

"We're good. We'll be there soon."

Dean switched the radio off to save the battery and looked over to Kevin, who was holding out the GPS-enabled phone in front of him. "Alright, Dean, take a left..."

-:-

Twenty minutes and two wrong turns later, they pulled up near a prison-turned-camp. It was encircled by a tall wire fence that was reinforced with chickenwire, metal sheets, and even junked cars to form a sort of barricade on one side. The side facing outward, however, was sheer, with barbed wire encircling the top. The only entrance was locked from within, and guarded by a woman and a man, both carrying machine guns. Dean, Kevin, and Cas approached it, and the guns were leveled. The woman stepped forward, less than a foot away from the fence. "Who are you?"

Dean put his hands up, his companions following suit. "I'm Dean, this is Kevin and Cas. We radioed?"

"That's great. Now, we need blood samples from all three of you before we let you in without blowing your brains out. We clear? I'm going to roll three syringes and a tourquinet out, and I'm going to watch. If you need help, I can explain how to draw blood. Got me?"

Dean nodded. A small bag sailed over the wall, and he walked over to it, keeping his hands up. Picking it up, he looked inside. As promised, there were several syringes, as well as a rubber tourniquet and assorted band-aids.

"Who wants to go first?" Dean asked, smiling humorlessly. Kevin nervously stepped forward. Tying the tourniquet tightly around Kevin's arm, Dean tapped the prophet's elbow, looking for a vein to pop. "Make a fist."

Kevin did as he was bid, and in response a bluish-tinged vein popped out of his elbow. Holding the arm steady with one hand, Dean stuck the needle in. Kevin didn't make a sound as Dean slowly drew back the plunger, watching the syringe fill with dark red liquid.

When he was done, Dean stuck a band-aid on Kevin's elbow and placed the syringe back into its holder in the bag. Next, he moved to Castiel and repeated the process.

Kevin did Dean's elbow, and they sent the bag sailing back over the fence. The woman nodded to the man, who picked it up and hurried inside the facility.

"So how did you find the camp?" the woman asked, keeping the gun pointed in the direction of the trio.

"Why don't you put the gun down and we'll tell you?"

The woman smiled, but didn't move the gun. "Sorry- Dean, was it? I'm Risa, by the way- no-can-do with the gun. My own protocol."

"Do you run this place?" Dean asked, curious.

Risa nodded. "Ever since two days ago, when I founded it. We've got a resident virologist who's been studying the virus, and we've found some pretty interesting stuff. Like, if you're infected, sulfur appears in your bloodstream. Crazy, right?" She smiled, her eyes hard.

The man came jogging back, grinning in relief. "They're clear."

Risa smiled genuinely. "Clear? Great, Amir. Let them in."

The man- Amir- nodded, walking over to the heavily padlocked door. Taking out a chain of keys, he started working on them. In a minute, they were undone, and the gate swung open. Dean, Kevin, and Cas walked inside.

"Welcome," Risa said, "to Camp Chiquata."

* * *

A/N: _Okay, so I know I always beg for reviews, but this time I'm really very interested to know if you agree with my theory about the Croatoan virus and why Sam was immune. I mean, it all makes sense! I have _loads_ more theories concerning it, but I don't want to geek out _too_ much...that said, tell me what you think! Have a fantastic day. _

_Up next: More Sammy!_

_-Jaq_


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: _ Thank you all for reading and reviewing! All of the Sam bits in this are fondly dedicated to sammysmissingshoe. That said, warning: there is blood/torture in this chapter. If that in any way offends you please skip it! _

_Thanks to The Hope Lions, sammysmissingshoe, Kas3y, Samey Winchester, Charlie N Perfuro, VattaKeto, Sharllissa, in-silent-seas, Jenna, cessoceanlilly, and spnfan44 for reviewing! I'm also thrilled that you all thought my demon-virus theory was feasible in the SPN universe. Enjoy this next bit!_

_-Jaq_

* * *

Dean looked around, appraising the hastily-set-up camp. Turning to Risa, he gestured to the scene around them. "So...are you a hunter?"

Risa frowned, giving Dean an odd look. She glanced at the gun she was carrying, and then back at Dean. "Hunter? I'm ex-Marine, if you're wondering why I know how to handle a gun. Are you a...hunter?"

Dean sighed. "...Of sorts." He turned to Kevin, who shrugged. "It's hard to explain. You said you're ex-Marine?"

Risa grimaced and nodded. Pulling up her left pant leg, she revealed a prosthetic foot. "Honorable discharge. Fancy way of saying I got my foot blown off. But yeah, I served seven years."

Dean nodded, not saying anything more. They walked along a hard-packed gravel road into the main building, its tall brick walls imposing upon the trashy landscape. A few meters before he entered, Dean looked around again at the camp. It was sparsely populated, with only a few people milling around. Last time he had been there, there were lots of people. _Then again,_ he thought, _it's only been two days. _

Two days. _Damn_, was it really only two days? Two days since the world started going to hell, again. His shoes crunched on the road leading to the door, and he glanced back at the entrance. The Impala was still parked outside, and Amir and another man were standing guard.

"Uh," Kevin spoke up suddenly, causing Risa to turn and look, "where...I mean, is there...houses? Somewhere to go?"

Risa smiled grimly. "It's a prison. Make yourself at home, buddy. Most of us have taken over the cells in the back. 'Course, you could always stay outside." She smiled. "Though it gets pretty cool at night."

Kevin nodded, swallowing. "You said there was a virologist here?"

"Yeah, Anjalie's got the clinic. She came from the hospital in the city yesterday morning; she's fantastic. That's where we're going." They arrived at the prison, and Risa punched in a key code. "The code's 3792," she commented, "in case you need to get in. It's set for lockdown, in case any infected get in here."

Dean shook his head in amazement. "You set all this up in two days?"

"The prison was evacuated and set for demolition a few weeks ago. That's why there are so many Call it luck, call it fate, I don't know, but Amir's a tech genius and figured out a way to hack into the system when it all started. He started broadcasting on the radio right away, and people came trickling in."

They passed several offices until Risa took a left hand turn. She rapped on the door, and it was opened by a young woman with curly brown hair pulled into a ponytail. She wore a white lab coat and glasses.

"Hi!" she said brightly, smiling at them. "I take it you three are the people whose blood I just tested?"

Dean nodded. "I'm Dean, the short one's Kevin, and the guy behind me is Cas."

Kevin gave Dean a look at being referred to "the short one," but he didn't comment.

"I'm Anjalie. So, uh...it's my job to tell you about the virus. It's spread through blood-"

"I know," Dean said darkly. Taking a deep breath, he looked at Anjalie intensely. "Do you believe in demons?"

Taken aback, Anjalie wrinkled her nose slightly. "I-um, I haven't really thought about it. No, I guess? Why?"

"It's a demon virus. And I know this sounds absurd, but you have to believe me. There's sulfur in the blood, right?"

Anjalie nodded, still unsure where Dean was going with it all. "And...?"

Dean gave a frustrated sigh. "Kevin, you explain it."

"The short one" smiled, looking at Anjalie. "I'm pretty new to the idea, too. But it's all true."

-:-

_I can beat you. I did it before. I can beat you. I did it before. I can beat you..._

Sam was huddled in the corner of the room, his (fake) knees drawn up and his focus on his (fake) fingers. They were tapping along to the beat of his mantra. His (fake) fingers were something to focus on, something to keep all of his attention on so that he didn't just _lose it_.

_Beat me? You couldn't lift a _finger_ against me, Sammy_.

Sam jolted, his (fake) head snapping up and his (fake) pupils dilating in response to the (very real) voice. He clenched his (fake) hands, his (fake) fingers digging into his palms hard enough to cause (real) pain.

_I can beat you. I did it before. I can beat you. I did it before. I can beat you..._

He closed his (fake) eyes tightly, gritting his (fake) teeth and trying to shut it all out, focusing on nothing but the mantra, the mantra, because he'd _done it_, so he could do it again, right? He just had to push up-

Sam's (fake) eyes flew open, and he scrabbled with his (fake) hands against something that was pressing him in.

He breathed in and out, his (fake) chest moving up and down faster and faster.

And he was out of it, back in the room, and he was standing, and his hair was soaking wet, dripping red splatters down his body. Sam gasped, a searing pain splitting his head open. He collapsed, hands scrabbling, holding his head, rocking against the wall-

_See? Isn't this so much fun? Sam, you couldn't beat me. Don't pretend. Don't you know that the one thing you should never do is set unrealistic goals? You'll just disappoint yourself. _

Sam forced himself to open his eyes, to pull his hands from his head. He looked down at them, watching as invisible knives sliced his palms open, the blood red and pumping over his hands and down his arms.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

_There's no escape, Sam. You know it. _

Sam did.

He forced his breathing to even, tried to fight. He _willed_ himself to win, to out, to he didn't even know what because he couldn't even remember what he had done to force himself into control.

_Even if you did win, for just a second, Sam, what are you going to do? The Horsemen's Rings are destroyed. You and Dean destroyed them, remember? So that nobody could even have a hope of releasing me. _

Sam knew that. He'd known it from the first, but how could he just quit?

_It'll be easier if you quit. _

No. Sam wiped his arms, blocking the pain, not even caring that he wasn't real, that he was just a thought tucked into some dark corner of his own mind. He closed his eyes. _I can beat you. I did it before. I can beat you. I did it before..._

_Okay, Sammy. If that's what makes you feel better. _

With a wrench that felt like every bone in his body breaking simultaneously, Sam was torn from his corner and thrown into reality. He was standing, facing of a school- or, what had been a school. The building was on fire, hot enough that had Sam had control, he would have been sweating heavily from his proximity to the heat. Bodies were strewn on the ground.

_No fire department. Isn't it funny, Sam, how easy the world burns? _

Sam reeled. It was _his _fault, all of this. If he had just died like he should have, this wouldn't be happening. How many people were dead now because of him?

_Overall? One billion, four million, nine thousand and seventy-two. Make that seventy-six, four more people just died in the space of time while I was saying that. See why it's just easier to give up now?  
_

Sam didn't respond. He didn't have to, but it didn't help. Nothing ever helped. There was nothing he could do.

_That's right, Sammy. Nothing you can do. _

Sam didn't even bother to correct him. It wouldn't change anything, after all.

-:-

Risa and Anjalie stared at Kevin, who was concluding his speech on why demons were real.

"That...um, okay," Risa said, frowning. "I guess...that doesn't change anything. We still have to save as many people that we can. Is there anything that can stop demons?"

"Salt," Dean stated. "And there's sigils. Other than that, not a lot. We've got some weapons in the car, if you'd let us drive her into the property."

"Sure."

"I can show these people how to draw different sigils," Cas said, speaking for the first time.

"Yeah, that's good. Me and Kevin can get the stuff."

-:-

Sam screamed, his voice dying almost as soon as it left his lips. The room didn't end, now. And Sam was tied down, his bonds slick with blood. A stake was driven through his shoulder, pinning him down. Blood bubbled out of his lips every time he exhaled, and when he inhaled he choked. But he couldn't die. You can't die inside your own mind.

Sam didn't know how long it'd been, honestly. Time was pretty vague. There was (real) pain on his (fake) body. Sometimes he was forced into reality and he saw the desolation of the world, but mostly there was pain.

Lucifer loomed over him, never a drop of blood splashing on the pristine white suit. He smiled and twisted the stake.

Sam gasped, blood being sucked down into his throat. He tried to cough, but the motion wracked his body, causing more nerve damage.

How funny was it that he wasn't even real? All this pain, all inside his head.

_Oh, you have a lot more stuck inside that noggin, Sammy. Remember? _

Sam focused on the pain. This was bearable. He wouldn't remember. He wouldn't, because then he might lose the last bit of himself he had left.

-:-

Kevin walked along the path with Dean, their footsteps crunching in unison. At the gate, Amir smiled at them, waving them on. Dean smiled sadly at the car, opening the door and pulling himself into the driver's seat. Next to him, Kevin got into the passenger.

"Dean?" Kevin asked, frowning at the expression on the other man's face. "Are you..."

"I'm great, Kevin," Dean said, knowing that Kevin wouldn't press him.

-:-

Hours later, in the privacy of his room, Dean closed his eyes. He put his face in his hands, wanting it to be over. Wanting it all to be over. For him, for Sam, for the world. What did it even matter anymore? They had all trusted him, and what had happened? Sam was gone- worse than dead - and Dean was replaying events that he didn't know if he could stop.

* * *

A/N 2: _Well, seeing as I am on break, the next chapter should be up in less than a week! Which is pretty awesome, right? A little note I think I forgot to mention last chapter: Risa and Amir actually appeared briefly in _Batman_, if you've read that. Of course, that story is in no way canon to this one...I just thought I'd mention it. Hopefully Last Year's Wishes will be up tomorrow, for those who care. _

_Please drop me a review! I love hearing from you all. Have a great break, and happy holidays!_

_-Jaq_


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: _I owe you all _massive _apologies. I mean it - I should not have put this off. I have a million excuses, but they don't really matter. I'm here now, and I swear to you, I will not abandon this. A giant shout-out to my friend Jenna who helps me with everything and kicked my butt into gear, forcing me to update this. So, you can thank her. _

_I'd also like to thank cessoceanlilly, spnfan44, Kas3y, The Hope Lions, sammysmissingshoe, Armand, cammiemorris7, Charlie N. Perfuro, Sharllissa, VattaKeto, and in-silent-seas for reviewing! You guys are the best and I hope you haven't given up on me. _

_-Jaq_

* * *

_We're all going to Hell, so why bother?_ Dean thought, staring at the opposite wall. _We're all full of lies, and nobody's coming to save us._

Sam was gone, the world was on the brink, and what was Dean doing? Hiding out in a safe camp, knowing full well that he didn't survive this. _Nice one, Winchester. _

A muffled rap came from the door, and Dean snapped out of his reverie. Sighing, he pushed himself up, marveling at how clean the tile floor was as he walked to the door and opened it. Cas was standing there.

"What?" Dean asked monotonously, staring at the fallen angel on the other side.

"I...well," Cas said, shifting his weight uncomfortably, "I have an idea."

"Spit it out."

Cas swallowed, and smiled halfheartedly. "There...is a possibility that we can...exorcise an angel, of sorts. You remember when Alistair did the same to me?"

Dean nodded.

"Well, Kevin was looking through his notes for anything that could be of help, and he found something like that. It's...complicated, but possible."

"So what's the catch?" Dean asked, not letting any emotion show on his face.

Cas furrowed his brow. "I never said anything about a catch."

"Well, in my experience, things like this don't just _happen, _especially not to me. So yeah, there's a catch. What is it?"

"The exorcism has to be spoken by a demon," Castiel said bluntly.

Dean smiled bitterly. "Well, how do you suppose we go about this? Capture Lucifer- without hurting my brother- and then find some demon and convince it to exorcise its master? Nice try, Cas. I appreciate the effort. But that's not going to work."

"Crowley."

"What? Sorry, I thought you said 'Crowley.'"

"I did. He hated Lucifer, remember?" Cas said earnestly.

"Yeah, and it's a _great _idea to give the King of Hell the means to exorcise angels- such as yourself, I might add. Nice," Dean responded bitterly.

"It won't work on me, Dean. I'm not an angel anymore."

Dean paused, his hand resting on the door. "Fine," he said flatly. "Go for it. Get Crowley, convince him. How are we gonna capture the devil, then?"

Castiel shrugged. "I don't know, Dean. Maybe if you'd help us instead of sitting around moping, we could think of a way."

Dean glared, but didn't respond. Cas left, and Dean shut the door.

He looked down at the floor. It was white, stark against his muddy shoes. His room- cell, he reminded himself, was bare save for a duffel and a cot on one side. Dean wasn't _moping._ _Damn _Castiel, damn Kevin, damn every God-forsaken thing on, above, and under this hellhole of a planet.

Dean clenched a fist, watching as the veins and tendons stood out. What would he be without his brother? Would he have died long ago? Would the world be better off, without the both of them?

Dean secretly thought that it would. Unfortunately, that wasn't something that he could control anymore. He had a - a _responsibility_ to at least Castiel and Kevin, and even the damn world. Because somebody had to save it.

That somebody didn't always have to be Dean, though. He thought maybe it was time for a break. Recklessly, he yanked out his phone, clenching it in his hand and willing it to break out of the pressure.

It didn't, and Dean almost broke down. He dug his fingernail into the smooth glass screen, angry with everything. He turned the phone on.

It was on contacts, and Dean's eye caught the contact marked _Sam_. There were only six contacts in his phone - three of Sam, and one for Kevin and Cas. The other contact was Bobby, but Dean hadn't gotten around to deleting it. He probably never would.

Recklessly, Dean hit the _call_ button with his thumb, bringing the phone to his ear. "Alright, you son of a bitch," he muttered, his vision blurring. He clenched his fist again, his fingernails digging into his palm.

The phone picked up on the third ring.

"Dean?" the smooth voice answered, sounding so much like Sam that Dean almost lost it.

"Alright, you son of a bitch," Dean said, grounding out the same phrase. "What do you want?"

"The world," was the immediate reply, short and smooth.

"Well, you've almost got it. But you haven't got me."

"That's true, Dean. I promised Sam that I would dismember you myself, and this time, your brother is much too weak to fight back. Besides, he hates you."

Dean closed his eyes, trying to calm down. He wouldn't let this get to him.

"He does hate you, Dean. I showed him the way you let me in. He knows that all of this is your fault. And he _hates _you."

Dean didn't doubt it, but he still had to save his brother. "I know," he said, his clipped tone giving him away. "Where can I meet you?"

"I don't know. Nostalgia work for you? I'll see you at Stull Cemetery, two days from now."

The call disconnected, and Dean slumped, letting the phone fall out of his hand. He couldn't go back there. He _couldn't_.

Well, he'd have to.

Lying on the bed, he tried to sleep, knowing full well that it wouldn't work.

-:-

As soon as the phone rang, Sam was pulled back into reality. He knew who it was from the way Lucifer smiled, and he tried as hard as he could to break out. "Dean?"

"Alright, you son of a bitch," Dean's voice growled, "what do you want?"

_Don't do something stupid, don't be a reckless_ idiot_, Dean-_

_"_The world," Lucifer replied easily.

"Well, you've almost got it. But you haven't got me."

Sam knew Dean. He knew when his brother was desperate, and he knew that now was one of those times. It wouldn't do anything, but he implored his brother. _Don't do something stupid, please, it won't help-_

"That's true, Dean. I promised Sam that I would dismember you myself, and this time, your brother is much too weak to fight back. Besides, he hates you," Lucifer responded, tugging Sam's mouth into a grotesque smile.

"He does hate you, Dean. I showed him the way you let me in. He knows that all of this is your fault. And he _hates _you."

It wasn't true. Sam had thought he hated Dean, but he still didn't want his brother to die. Their father had described that to them once.

-:-

_"I _hate _her," Dean growled, rolling his eyes at the English paper sitting on the motel counter. A large _F _was written prominently at the top, in red marker. _

_Their father was in one of his better moods, sitting on the sofa and looking over a case. "Don't," he said to Dean, looking up. _

_"Don't what? Hate the stupid bitch for failing me?"_

_"Hate's only for things that deserve to die, Dean. You too, Sam," John had said, and that was that. Hate was for things that deserved to die. _

_-:-_

It was a stupid saying, and they didn't follow it at all, but it was the first thing that came to mind.

"I know," Dean replied, and Sam struggled, trying to do anything, even move his damn pinky finger. "Where can I meet you?"

_No. _Sam pushed wildly, but it was suffocation at its finest, and the harder he struggled the more difficult it became to struggle at all.

"I don't know. Nostalgia work for you? I'll see you at Stull Cemetery, two days from now," Lucifer replied, and Sam felt himself sinking deeper. He couldn't. Not there. Not where he would be crushed under memories, flashbacks - Dean couldn't die there (and Dean would be killed, Sam was sure of it).

Lucifer disconnected the call and put Sam's phone back in his pocket. "Well, Sammy," the devil said, facing the setting sun, "just two more days. And then, forever."

* * *

A/N 2: _Another note: We're really close to 100 reviews! You know what would be a fabulous kick in the pants for me to update this sorry story faster? Reviewing. So...do that? I love to hear your comments. Thank you all so, so much for sticking with me, I know I'm annoying. Have a great day, okay? _

_-Jaq_


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